


Got No Direction

by mistyzeo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-19
Updated: 2010-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No money for a motel, and it's cold as fuck.  They have to keep warm somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got No Direction

"Dude, seriously, we have to stop," Sam said for the third time in half an hour, watching Dean press his fingertips into his eyes and then try to grip the steering wheel hard enough to keep him awake.

"I'm fine," Dean muttered, obviously fighting a yawn, and Sam huffed a sigh.

"Dean, come on. Pull over. Driving all night isn't going to fix our cash problem, man, you know that."

Dean grumbled something under his breath, but he pulled over. Gravel crunched under the Impala's tires as she slowed, and the black, empty stretch of road ahead and behind them melted away into nothing, out of the shine of the headlights. Sam could see a little rough tuft of grass sticking up by the side of the road, probably a drain, and his door opened with a squeal.

The air that rushed in was biting cold, shocking his skin warmed from the car's heater, and he slammed it shut again. "Christ."

"Mmm," Dean said, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes and turning off the ignition. "Fuck. It's gonna get ugly tonight, isn't it."

Sam frowned out the windshield at the sparkling frigid night, and then went momentarily blind when Dean thumbed off the headlights.

"Come on," he said, zipping up his coat and opening the door again. "Get some blankets out of the back, and we'll be okay."

Dean followed, swearing at the cold and slamming his door behind him in a way that would have gotten Sam bitched at, and tucked his hands into his armpits as he joined Sam behind the car. Sam shook a pair of shotguns out of a heavy army blanket and thrust it into Dean's arms. Dean's breath blew out of him in clouds, wisping white around his head and vanishing, and Sam gave him a little shove with his elbow to get him going. As Sam unloaded a set of knives from the second blanket, Dean clambered in the backseat with his blanket and Sam could feel the car rock as he moved around.

He'd shucked off his jeans by the time Sam joined him, and wrapped the blanket tight around his hips. Sam wrestled him for it for a minute or two, kicking off his boots and squirming his way between Dean and the back of the seat. It was a tight fit-- normally they'd flip for the front when it came down to it like this-- but Dean grumbled like a kid as he let Sam pull his coat off to drape over them, and then he was snugging himself against Sam's chest.

"Don't crush me in your sleep, gigantor," Sam heard him say, pulling his coat up around his head. Sam breathed on the back of his neck to piss him off and got him to let him under the coat too, pulling his own over their shoulders and adjusting the other blanket over their legs. The car was cooling, ticking as it wound down, but although they'd opened the doors a few times the air inside was still warm. It wasn't going to stay that way, and Sam knew they were better off generating all their heat themselves and insulating like hell.

He found a cold spot over his hip and pulled at the blankets again. Dean made a muffled noise of protest, and Sam pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, which was the only place he could reach.

"You're such a woman," Dean said fondly. "Fuck you, stop moving."

Sam stilled, satisfied with the position of his arms-- one underneath Dean's and his head, the other draped over Dean's ribs, his fingers tucked between Dean's t-shirt and flannel, between his side and the car's seat.

He could hear Dean breathing, loud under the coat, and then Dean was scrambling to get the coat off their heads and sucking in a breath of cooling air.

"Dean!" he started, irritated, and Dean awkwardly tucked the coat around their necks instead with his free hand.

"Can't breathe under there," Dean said. "Christ."

Sam closed his eyes. Dean's body was warm and firm against his, the planes of his chest and stomach familiar under Sam's hand, the fabric of his t-shirt worn soft and thin by too many washes. Dean was wearing socks and boxers, and Sam had ditched his own jeans for the warmth of Dean's body, and he could feel Dean's hairy legs prickly against his own and Dean's ass pressed right against his crotch. Dean's ribs rose and fell under Sam's elbow, and he squeezed gently to hear Dean huff in sleepy annoyance. The hair at the back of Dean's neck was soft under Sam's lips, and he ducked his head a fraction to kiss him again. There he could feel the bump of Dean's spine, and he kissed that too.

"Sam." Dean's voice was a low, slow warning, and Sam smiled against his skin, pressing another kiss to the nape of his neck. He could feel heat growing in his gut, thick and warm, low in his body, and he pressed his hips forwards. Dean canted his hips back with a little sigh and turned his face away, giving Sam more room to kiss his neck and throat.

Sam lifted his head, kissing under his ear, sliding his hand at the same time down Dean's abdomen to slip under the hem of his shirt. He mouthed at Dean's neck as his hand drifted upwards, thumbing over Dean's nipples one at a time, and Dean sucked in a breath. Dean's amulet knocked against his knuckles, outside Dean's shirt. He fixed his attention on one nipple for a while, rolling it under his thumb until it was a warm, hard point, and Dean was murmuring and pushing his hips back harder. Sam rocked forwards to meet him, cock stiff in his shorts, and Dean grunted.

"Sam," Dean said again, and this time it was more like a plea. Sam sank his teeth into the corner of Dean's neck and shoulder and let go of Dean's chest to slide his hand under the waist of his boxers instead.

Dean's dick was hard and hot and waiting, skin satin smooth. Sam's fingers skated along his length till they found their grip, curling all the way around and pulling up once, and Dean moaned and pushed into Sam's hand.

"Get your--" Sam said, flexing his wrist, and Dean let go of the car seat and shoved his boxers down around his thighs, freeing himself to Sam's touch. Sam ran his fingers down the underside of Dean's cock, rubbing his forefinger under the head and his pinkie against Dean's balls, still pressing his lips to the back of Dean's neck, and his cock against Dean's ass.

"Shit," Dean said, propping his foot up so he could spread his knees apart, and immediately letting cold air in. Sam let go of his dick to grab his leg and pull it back over his own, spreading Dean's body, essentially across his lap. The gap in the blankets fell closed, trapping their heat. Dean curled his foot behind Sam's calf and rocked into him, dropping his head back to the seat with a thump and hissing out a breath between his teeth.

"Better?" Sam murmured, thrusting forwards and cupping Dean's cock again. Dean hummed in agreement and nodded, shifting restlessly and grasping at Sam over his shoulder. Sam pushed up on his elbow to kiss Dean's face, and Dean turned his head to catch Sam's mouth with his.

They kissed deeply and somewhat awkwardly, Sam licking into Dean's mouth and Dean moaning quietly, biting at Sam's lips and chasing his tongue. Sam's nose was cold but Dean's breath was warm, and he could feel Dean smiling into the kiss.

"Yeah?" he asked, not sure what he wanted to know, and Dean nodded, reaching up to curl his fingers in Sam's hair.

"Fuck yeah," he said. "God, Sammy, yeah."

Sam's cock was rubbing in the crack of Dean's ass, trapped inside his boxers, and Dean was grinding back to meet him at every stroke. Sam knew he was dripping, smearing a wet spot on the cotton. He could feel his dick throbbing hot, in time with his rapid breaths, and he was panting into Dean's hair before he knew it. Dean's skin was smooth and warm, the fabric between them alternately soft and rough, and Sam went back to biting and sucking at Dean's neck. The fist he had balled under his head clenched uselessly, and Dean humped up into his hand and back against Sam's cock relentlessly.

He heard himself say, "Dean," and Dean said, "Yeah, come on, fuck, Sam. Wish you could fuck me."

"Could," Sam said, catching a breath.

Dean snorted a laugh. "Not in the cocoon you spun us, freak."

Sam bit him for that, sinking his teeth into his neck and making him hiss. He sucked hard on the spot, raising the blood under Dean's skin, and Dean squirmed.

"No," he said, soothing the bite mark with his tongue. "I could. If you wanted."

Dean shook his head. "Not now. Too cold. Later. In the morning."

"'Kay," Sam said. He kissed below Dean's ear again, still working him with his hand, rubbing his thumb over Dean's slit and feeling him leak. He smoothed the slickness down the length of Dean's shaft and Dean groaned, hips moving ceaselessly, in little circles against Sam's dick. Sam jerked him hard and fast for a moment, and then slowly, and felt another blurt of pre-come over his knuckles. Sam let go to slide his slippery fingers down around Dean's sac, cupping his balls, rolling them gently, teasing. Dean moaned in his throat and Sam returned to stroking his cock, the familiar curve and girth a perfect fit in his hand.

"Jesus," Dean said, fingers clenching in Sam's hair. He dragged Sam against his neck and Sam sucked another hickey into his skin.

Dean's breath started to come in little uneven gasps as Sam jacked him, and he was dragging his legs apart farther with the leverage of Sam's calf. He pushed up into Sam's curled fingers, panting and swearing, and Sam could feel the tremors in his body that told him Dean was close.

"I'm gonna--" Dean said, like he always did, like Sam didn't already know, and Sam squeezed his fist and kept up the pace, working him to the edge. Dean groaned through his teeth and went still, arching hard against Sam's body, and then he was coming over Sam's hand and shuddered with every wave of it, shaking and swearing and fucking his slick cock through the circle of Sam's fingers.

The shaking of his body did Sam in, and he thrust his hips hard against Dean's ass as his orgasm hit him, pulsing wet in his boxers. He cried out into Dean's hair, muffling the sound against Dean's head. Dean rocked with him, working him through it with a hand in his hair and his knee against Sam's.

"Guh," Sam said finally, and he heard Dean sigh, relaxed and happy.

"Did you get come on me?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

Sam let go of Dean's softening cock and wiped his hand on Dean's shirt. "Yes."

"Oh fuck you--" Dean growled, but Sam wrestled him back into submission, grabbing his flailing hands and pinning his legs and holding him in place until he relaxed. "Asshole," Dean muttered, dropping his head onto Sam's arm and squirming to get comfortable. Sam just pressed his nose against the back of Dean's neck, regretting that he had come drying in his shorts, but not much else. The air was cold around them but his body and Dean's were producing plenty of heat to keep them comfortable. He closed his eyes.

"Night, Sammy," Dean whispered.

"Night Dean."


End file.
